


Mercy

by TheSilentChloey



Series: Fire Emblem Alternate Universes [12]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon
Genre: Mercy Killing, Other, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 22:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilentChloey/pseuds/TheSilentChloey
Summary: For SF's Write Your Butt Off Round 5: Mercy.





	Mercy

“Are you sure about me having to do this? I...I can't...I can't do this!” He asked, with wide eyes, gripping his blade, and terror on his face as he did not want to be in the position he was in presently and he was stuck there, no matter how hard he'd tried to avoid it.

Below him an injured buck whose life was slowly fading away in an untold world of pain and suffering that was as upsetting as it was horrifying. Especially since it was the boy's own arrow in its side missing the shot that was supposed to kill the animal.

Marth's father had the idea to take the boy out hunting, so the situation was his fault. It was supposed to teach the boy to be a man.

Marth wasn't yet skilled with the bow, though he'd been expected to know how to hit his target at least. Unfortunately for Marth, his father had felt learning with a moving target was the best experience. Marth didn't even want to go hunting in the first place. He had pleaded not to go, begged his father to let him spend his free afternoon with his sister - to read with her and perhaps watch in wonder at her delicate needlepoints and other such amazing things she could create, things that Marth wished he could do - rather than hunting.

His father had collared the boy and said  _ “Princes do not cry. They do their duties as heirs to the kingdom! Why has Naga disgraced me with such a weak-hearted son?!” _

Even so it had not felt right to Marth. It felt... _ wrong _ . He looked to the adults around him, eyes pleading with them to at least do  _ something _ , to spare him from having to take part in such an upsetting act, to not have to kill the animal, though his father's glare told the boy he would get no such escape, he wouldn't have a choice or say in the matter.

“It's th’ kindest thin’ t’ do.” the wizened old man sighed, “‘E ain't gonna las’ much longer boy, yer might as well end it.”

The buck lay on the ground, wounded and struggling. The boy quivered shakily. Marth couldn't do it. He didn't want the beast to suffer...but he couldn't kill it. His father scoffed in the background. Marth the Soft, they'd taken to calling him. Marth the Weak Heart. Marth the girl. He looked at the dying buck and braced himself. He knew he didn't have a choice, but it still pained him to have to do this. The scoffing wouldn't stop if he didn’t, of that he was certain. His blade came down and the buck let out a final screech before it became limp. Marth was shaking, close to tears. He had not wanted to do this. He hated hunting. He decided then that he would  _ never _ force his future son to do this. Marth wouldn't force his son to have blood on his hands if he didn't want to.

~~~

The groan of a man dying on the battlefield wasn't uncommon of late. Many men were dying out there. Not one able to be saved by healers. Their suffering beyond what was normal, a cruel suffering that reminded Marth of that hunt some three years ago. A man lay before him, wounds deep and clearly in pain, making him want to end the man's suffering. Marth felt a pain in his chest.

The suffering beyond the skills of healers. Suffering that no amount of magic could save the man's life, he was doomed to die, just like that buck that lay at Marth's feet, the scoffing behind him as phantoms looked on to see whether the young man would be man enough to be ‘merciful’ to the suffering below him.

The young man grit his teeth. There was nothing to be done. He raised his blade and put an end to the suffering man. Marth trembled inside now, tears locked behind an emotionless mask, his mind drawn inwards as the tiny boy inside wept uncontrollably, screaming as a twisted mercy came before him, death spreading like a dragon's wings over the battleground. He'd grown a façade for these things and could not afford to be weak, not anymore. He wasn't the crying little boy. Even so it still hurt him deeply, shown by the single tear sliding down his face.

Death held such a sway over life that both were in the constant struggle, Marth was afraid that he too would be death's next target, that he would suffer a slow, agonising end that would consume him until there was nothing left.

He looked over the battlefield and for not the first time, he wanted to just sink to his knees and cry, to weep freely and be able to allow the pain to swallow him whole.

Grief for those who died gripping his heart and ripping it to shreds. He wished he  _ was _ dead, for it would be mercy to die now, yet this was not the time for that. His position wouldn't let him. He had a realm to protect. A realm that was choking the life out of him.

~~~

She woke, breathing in frightened gasps, air burning her throat and lungs as the scene of carnage made her feel sick. She lay in a cot, bandages wrapped around her chest. She almost did not know why she was there - a disconnect between what she saw in her ‘dream’ and this reality. She was feverish, her skin bathed in sweat as her eyes darted, seeking a sword that wasn't by her side. A scream on the back of her throat died down when a snow haired man came in through the tent flap, soft brown eyes regarding her with concern, “Easy Lucina.” He said as she was still breathing hard. The man came closer, with a staff in hand. Her mind barely registered that the staff was to heal her, soothed her as he continued, “It's alright, you're safe now.” Brown eyes looked into hers with a gentle expression on his face.

“What...where…?” She stammered out, eyes looking for any form of danger, of the remnants of the vision she had just seen,

“You took a lance to the chest…” The albino said softly, “We're in Ylisse. A group of bandits tried to attack us. Thank Naga's mercy you're still alive.” He said gently holding her hand. “We...I…”

She felt a small bout of strength and reached to soothe the man looking at her in turn, brushing his skin tenderly with her fingertips.

“It's not your fault, Robin.” She said, a warmth permeating her chest, “You did what you could.”

Robin smiled softly, “Yes, well…those bandits won't be troubling anyone ever again.”

Lucina smiled. She was safe. She wasn't on a battlefield having to end the life of other people. She was with the Shepherds, they were fine...she may have been injured but she would be fine. She had Robin with her and she would be fine. The dream she had was fading away. She was alive. Naga's mercy had saved her life, and she was  _ alive _ .


End file.
